Taking Flight
by Anaeli Faller
Summary: The Pieces of Eden are mysterious objects. There had to be thousands all over the world. So what if one managed to find its way to into the right hands? Will it stay for long? OC-Involvement.
1. Part 1

"—Baby goes over—! _Be careful_, Shaun!"

"I _am_ being careful, Rebecca!"

"You got that light in place, Desmond?"

"Yup!"

Monteriggioni, Auditore Villa, Sanctuary.

Desmond grunted as he jumped down from the shelves, having secured the last light. He often wondered whether or not having Ezio's acrobatic skills bleed into him was such a great thing. Lucy and Shaun, especially, we're masterminds when it came to making him do something as dangerous as scale a ceiling, or maybe just something like swimming in medieval toxic waste ("You are not touching any of the sleeping bags until you stop stinking like a sewer," Shaun had quite firmly said).

He sighed, watching the busybodies set up their stations, his having been finished up long ago, given that all he had was his laptop. He fiddled with the hidden blade on his wrist, unable to stop himself from comparing it to Ezio's.

Ezio...

The last memory they had accessed was when Ezio had spoken to that... that Minerva woman. From there it was all pretty much a blur, from Vidic finding them to their escape to here, their current location.

Not that the ghosts had gotten any better, though.

"Desmond!"

He snapped back to reality, nearly jumping when he realized Lucy's sudden closeness to him (in front of his face).

"What?" he asked, keeping his voice level.

"You're coming with me. There's something else here with us."

His eyes narrowed at that, concentrating for a moment before he slipped into Eagle Vision. Scanning the area, he didn't find anything out of e ordinary (though he did have to rub his eyes when he thought he saw a Templar). Or at least, he hadn't seen anything until a set of footprints were made obvious near the statue of Iltani. He frowned.

"There's something here, alright," Desmond agreed, approaching the statue of the female Babylonian. He moved some equipment out of the way, continuing to look. He could see handprints, a trace of... blood...

_Blood?_

Turning off eagle vision revealed that it was, indeed, blood. Not recent by any means, but certainly not something from the 1500s.

"Someone's here," Lucy stated from behind him, obviously having the same idea. She peeked behind the statue, possibly to try and find something, but there was nothing. They both let out a breath neither of them realized they had been holding.

"H-Hey, you little—! Get back here with that!"

The two Assassin's spun around just in time to watch a blur zip past and up the stairs leading out of the Sanctuary. Desmond didn't hesitate a moment, already sprinting off after the intruder, following as best as he could. He navigated the stairs like an expert, coming up in time to watch the bookcase into Mario's study closing shut. He cursed swiftly, activating the thing up again and practically shoving the thing to get past, scanning around with eagle vision as he went out into the entrance room.

The thief spun around, though Desmond barely got a good look at him before a flash of golden light proceeded to assault his eyes, and he had to shield them out of instinct. He grunted as he was tackled, acting quickly and trying to throw the — surprisingly light — attacker off him and getting back to his feet, hidden blade out at the sound of a weapon being drawn, but faltering as he finally got a good look at their thief.

It was a boy, he told himself. A young boy, had to be no older than sixteen or so. His golden eyes were surprisingly bright and gold, reminding him distinctly of Altair's. His hair was blue — bright, sapphire blue hair — and...

And suddenly there was a bright flash of gold again as the kid leapt, catching Desmond off-guard once more as he struggled to deflect the weapon — a knife? — while trying not to get blinded.

There was a sudden, loud 'bang!', and the kid dropped easily enough, curled up and clutching his now-wounded shoulder. Desmond heaved out a sigh of relief, retracting the hidden blade as Lucy, Rebecca, and Shaun came up to him. He turned his own gaze onto the boy again, lips a tight line.

He had wings. Bright, golden wings that were uselessly limp on his back, flickering every-so-often.

"Sudeni okubyōmono no ore o korosu!" spat the downed boy, voice strained but fierce.

"Woah, wait. Is that Japanese?" Rebecca asked, her eyes wide before looking to their historian. "Shaun, any idea what he's saying?"

"Do I really look like I would, Rebecca?" the Englishman replied sarcastically. "I've been studying Renaissance Italy, not Japanese."

"Jigoku-e ochiro!"

"I _do_ know that that wasn't very nice, however!"

"I think I might know him," Desmond blurted out. At the looks he was given, he quickly shook his head. "I mean, Ezio might've. There's just something familiar about him. And I might know what that—" He gestured to the wings on the boy. "—might be."

A sudden yell was all the warning they had before the boy launched himself at the group again, knocking both Shaun and Rebecca flat on their asses. Lucy's gun was knocked aside, forcing her into hand-to-hand while Desmond tried to go in for an opening. Lucy, too, however, was knocked aside, and that left Desmond stuck on the defensive, trying to keep back a flurry of quick, but well-aimed, strikes.

A leg swept under him, knocking him to the ground, but he managed to take the boy down with him. They wrestled on the ground for a moment before Desmond was able to take advantage of the injured shoulder, yanking it back and twisting the boy's arm behind his back. The young boy yelled from the pain, but stopped struggling once realizing there was very little he could move, since Desmond was practically forcing his weight on him — and those wings, dammit, burned, but who cared at this point.

The dark-haired man took a deep breath as the others approached.

"Calmati, vero?"

The simple statement was enough to cause the boy to falter, favouring a shocked, wide-eyed look.

"E-Ezio... ?"

The wings and light vanished, and Desmond slowly allowed himself to get off the boy and letting him sit up.

"Did he just call him Ezio?" Shaun asked. "When did Ezio even get a chance to meet someone from Japan?"

"It might be in a memory we haven't accessed yet," Lucy suggested. Shaun shot her an incredulous look, which she returned with a scowl. "What?"

"Japan did not make contact with anyone from the west until the sixteenth century! The year 1542, to be exact. And that was with Portugal, followed by the Netherlands, England, and Spain. There were missionaries for the Dominicans, Franciscans, and Jesuits, sure, but not once was there ever a record that Japan and Italy made contact before then. So tell me, when and how would this mysterious meeting happen?" The Englishman huffed, pointing a finger at the blue-haired boy on the ground, startling him. "We don't even know who this child IS. And he stole my bloody mobile, on top of it all!"

"Kisama no yubi o mochisare sore wa kowasu zo!" the young boy growled warningly, causing Shaun to groan in frustration, throw his hands up, and stalk back into the Sanctuary.

"If you need me, I'll be making sure the little thief didn't nick anything else of ours!" he called back before vanishing behind the bookcase.

Desmond exchanged looks with Lucy and Rebecca. The technician only side, saying something or another about going to help Shaun, leaving the remaining two Assassin's with the foreign boy, who was still glaring viciously at them — Lucy more than anything — while gripping his injured shoulder tightly.

"We'll look into who he is," the blond woman said with a small sigh, a grim look on her face. "I have a hunch, but it'll take some looking in."

"Alright." Desmond took a deep breath, opening his mouth to ask something, but hesitating. A glance to the young boy, he saw that he was finally starting to see some signs of exhaustion. Dark eyes looked back to Lucy, but she shook her head.

"It looks like he's only going to listen to you, for now. None of us know Japanese, but he apparently might know some Italian. See what you can do, but make it quick: the sun's going to come up soon."

"Got it."

And Lucy vanished into the Sanctuary as well.

Desmond signed, scratching his head before he knelt in front of the young boy, not surprised when he scrambled back. As much as he loathed to admit it, he had to be grateful for the Bleeding Effect in a time like this.

"Nani?" the blue-haired boy asked, but the American didn't say anything. Couldn't, really. He didn't know what he could possibly say that wouldn't be completely lost. He started first by reaching a hand out, placing it over the one the boy had squeezing the injured shoulder, meeting the venomous glare with a calm gaze.

"Calmati," he said again, and was once more graced with having the boy relax. A small smile tugged on his lips. "I guess you know what that means, huh?" Carefully, Desmond pried the boy's hands away to look at the bullet wound, hissing at the sight, but glad that at least Lucy had avoided a serious injury. 'Remind me not to piss her off,' he mentally noted.

"I-Il too-o n-nome?"

Desmond blinked. And blinked again. And then looked at the boy and stared, taking a moment to understand that he had indeed spoken some form of broken Italian. It was strange and heavily butchered by his accent, but it was enough to figure out what had been said using Ezio's knowledge.

"Ezio?" The boy frowned — Desmond noted the exhaustion was settling in a lot quicker now and briefly wonders how the boy hadn't passed out yet — as he seemed to be struggling with something. "Omae ga Ezio?"

"No," Desmond replied, shaking his head. He placed his free hand on his chest. "Desmond. Desmond Miles."

The young boy looked utterly confused. "D-Desu... mondu?"

"Desmond," he repeated, slower, more clearly. He groaned at the confusion so easily visible, holding his head in his hand. He looked up again after a moment...

... just in time for the boy to slump forward and pass out.

Desmond reacted easily enough, bracing the young boy against his body, able to shove the panic aside long enough to pick the boy up. A look at the shoulder, now thoroughly soaked, had him grimacing as maybe he underestimated the placement of the wound.

* * *

><p>He gazed out at the crowds, rolling his shoulder back to ease some of the stiffness. He had taken to a spot up on a church, allowing Machiavelli time to get ahead while he tried to think up his next plan. Here in Roma, it was certainly going to be a task just to try and restore it to its former glory. With Mario gone, and Monteriggioni in ruins, he was all but broke.<p>

He, Ezio Auditore.

He grimaced as the memories ran through his mind once more, but the Assassin quickly shook his head. It didn't surprise him that he worried for the safety of his family and friends, praying that Claudia, his mother, and Leonardo were all safe. He was going to end up stuck here for a while, after all.

Ezio heaved a sigh then got to his feet, recalling briefly that Machiavelli had said that he should start first by recruiting the courtesans of Roma. 'Well,' he thought, a hint of a smirk on his lips as he stepped out into public streets, 'that should be easy.'

Moving along the streets, in the crowds, was simple enough...

"Hey, you! Stop right there!"

... unless he happened to pass by that one gutsy group of guards willing to call him out on his style of dress.

"_Per l'amore di..._ " (1)

He didn't hesitate in quickly scaling the nearest building and taking to the roof tops.

"_Cazzo_! He's getting away!"

A lot of jumping, dashing, leaping, and the like. These Roman guards were far quicker than any of the guards out near Firenze, but they were still not nearly as skilled in climbing as they should be. Even better was when he leapt off a ledge and into some hay, successfully managing to lose the _bastardi_.

'I will need to ask Machiavelli about places to avoid,' he noted to himself, sighing as he pulled himself out of the hay, dusting himself off. Readjusting his hood, he scanned his surroundings, blending into the crowds once more.

Ezio liked Roma, he decided. The Tevere was right there, and there wasn't such a bad smell. Granted, many of the buildings were in a poor state from being under the Borgia's careless power, but with some money and some renovations, he was sure he could get everything up and running again like in Monterrigioni.

He grimaced as the memories assaulted him, quickly shaking his head to clear the thoughts. Dwelling on the past would not help him, and he knew that. If anything, they would serve as a distraction and get him killed.

He made his way to the Rosa in Fiore, noting the rather rundown look. A knock on the door drew out a courtesan, who gave him one look before already smiling in that seductive way they all do.

"I wish to speak with Madonna Solari," he said, keeping his voice steady. The courtesan's face instantly changed, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"The Madonna is out," she explained. "If you want, I can—"

"Help! Aiuto! They've caught her!"

Ezio stepped out of the way, watching a distressed courtesan run into the arms of the one at the door, breathless and panicked.

"Hey, slow down, what's going on?" asked the first.

"They-They caught her!" replied the second. "T-Those pirates! And they won't let her go without the ransom!"

"Where is she?" Ezio asked. The two girls exchanged a look before the second looked back at him.

"At the docks, on a boat. They want 2000 florins before sundown."

He nodded, and without a second thought he set off on his way. He didn't exactly have the money, but that wasn't quite something he could share. Plus, he could simply pickpocket if need be, a task that had gotten far easier the more he'd practiced at it. Unfortunately, not a lot of people in Roma liked to carry a lot of cash, and so it took most of his afternoon just trying to get up enough cash. He was starting to get a irritated and cranky, and having the Borgia guards on him again didn't help.

He stumbled as someone bumped into him, throwing out curses and rounding on whoever it was, though the person in question was already fleeing the scene.

Fleeing...

...

"Really?" he exclaimed, startling just about everyone around him. _"Questo è come il giorno sta per andare? Bene!"_ (2)

He made haste, running after the little thief, not even bothering to avoid people as he simply shoved whoever was stupid enough to get in his way (which, admittedly by this point, was very few). Where he was going he didn't know nor care, simply following the thief and finally catching up at the river.

He leaped, tackling the offender and startling the people around him. The thief struggled, yet Ezio managed to keep him pinned as he got a good look at the offender.

Young, for sure, and small. The garments vaguely resembled his own style of dress, save for the mask that kept the nose and mouth hidden, leaving only the eyes — bright, golden, eagle-like eyes — revealed. The boy was dressed in Venetian blue, reminding Ezio of the Venetian guards, though the hand wraps ('Hand wraps?' he questioned), many belts — around his waist and one across his torso from the left shoulder to right waist, and shawl were black as night. There were strange, star-shaped weapons attached to the belts along with knives, and a long, thing sword strapped to his waist.

To put it bluntly, Ezio hadn't a clue who or what this boy even was. And if he hadn't noticed the Assassin symbol on the hilt of his sword, he probably wouldn't have cared.

The fact remained, however, that this boy stole the 2000 florins he had worked so hard to get.

It was then that he realized the boy in question was yelling at him. The unfamiliarity of the language was enough to confirm that yes, he had no idea what he was saying, and people were beginning to stare.

"Hey, _bastardo_!" he interrupted quickly, and somehow that made the boy shut up, though he was glaring fiercely. Ezio glared right back. "I do not care what your reasons were as long as you simply return what you stole!"

"Watashi gesha, fuketsuna itarian!" was the swift, angry retort.

Today just really couldn't get any worse, could it?

* * *

><p><strong>AN - No, there AREN'T any pairings. Yes, there IS Japanese. No, you won't translations for it. Yes, this is 100% un-beta'd. Fluent Italian and/or Japanese speakers would be lovely to correct any god-awful errors from Google Translate.**

(1) -"You're kidding me... "

(2) - "This is really how this day is going to go? Fine!"


	2. Part 2

He had taken the boy to his own sleeping bag, grimacing at the inevitable blood that was sure to stain it now. Taking care of their newest charge wasn't really an impossible task, Desmond decided, and was almost made easier since the young boy was unconscious, anyway.

Almost.

Whatever those wings had been on his back, they returned with a vengeance when he had tried to do the bandaging. They had to wake the boy long enough to try and get him to either calm or take them back. If the boy had been any calmer, however, he would probably have been dead, and those wings didn't seem to want to go away, either, so Shaun had (grudgingly) done the bandaging.

"I don't like this," the Englishman said, hovering a hand underneath the wings, the rest of the group crowded around him. "These look a lot like—"

"A Piece of Eden," Lucy finished. Shaun nodded.

"Right. Problem is, they're coming from his back — his skin, mind you. I'm not seeing any artifact just out here for the taking."

"I did see a scar there," Rebecca said, though she suddenly looked like she had swallowed a large bug. "You don't honestly think someone would really... "

She never finished her sentence. She didn't have to. Desmond felt sick to his stomach at the thought, rubbing one hand up his opposite arm for lack of anything to do. It was a disturbing thought to think about. Who could be desperate enough to safeguard a Piece of Eden by implanting it directly into a host? He didn't know much about them, but just looking at Ezio and Altair told him they put a lot of stress on the body.

"I did look into him," Lucy finally spoke up, breaking the tense silence. All eyes turned on her, but her gaze had turned away. "He's definitely Japanese. He has a descendant that goes by the name of Kouwashi. Kouwashi of the Iga Clan."

"Iga Clan? A ninja?" Shaun questioned, arching a brow. Lucy ignored him.

"It looks like there was a time period when Kouwashi met Ezio. At least, that's what the reports say." A pause, a deep breath. "This boy... they called him Alex, and he's been held captive by the Templars for pretty much his whole childhood. He's eighteen now. They lost him about five years ago, and they haven't seen him since. They're assuming he's dead, but they are looking for him still."

"They want the wings," Desmond concluded, and Lucy nodded. He scowled a little, crossing his arms. "What do they even do, besides the obvious?"

"I don't know. But it's powerful enough that they're still looking even after they've marked him as dead."

With little else to do, they decided to finish setting everything up. Desmond found that it was actually a lot of fun practicing his skills out in the town when no one was around, and also a good way to keep in shape. He didn't question how Rebecca's power-sucking things worked, but he didn't really care too much.

He faltered when he heard a yell, spinning around, only to jump and dodge instinctively as an archer's sword came a little too close to his stomach. His foot missed the ledge, and it was only sheer luck that managed to get him to not land awkwardly on said foot.

He took a deep breath, calming his own racing heart, shakily getting to his feet when it dawned on him that it was only a ghost. He should be used to the Bleeding Effect by now, he knew. Yet that one part of his mind always, always freaked him out, always said that he really was about to get stabbed.

"D-Desumond?"

The American swore when he realized a pair of glowing eyes were right above him, scrambling back and staring at the Japanese boy hovering a good foot or two above him. Desmond had a hand flat on his chest, slowly managing a scowl.

"Don't _do_ that!" he snapped, sighing in frustration at the confusion plastered all over Alex's ('A really American name,' he noted earlier) face. "Oh, god, I'm yelling at a foreigner... a foreigner who can't even _understand_ me... "

"Omae ga hen desu yo... "

He threw his hands up in the air then stalked off. He knew Alex would follow, but he couldn't quite find it in himself to give a damn. At least, not until he remembered the very real issue of their position. He rounded on the Japanese boy, pointing at him.

"You should put those wings away," he stated, gesturing towards them. He resisted a growl of annoyance, briefly wondering if maybe Altair's short temper was bleeding into him again, when Alex only scowled at him and — once again! — retorted with something in Japanese. "Right. Okay. Do you understand Italian? You have to know something if you know how to ask what my name is. How about 'Mettete le ali di distanza' (1)?" Still no response, he practically screamed in frustration. He shot a finger out at the wings. "Wings! Ali! Tsubasa!"

It seemed the day was just getting more interesting. Desmond was fairly certain the confusion on Alex's face was identical, if not more exaggerated, on his own. He had shouted the words at random, not even knowing what language the latter had been...

"Tsubasa?" Alex repeated slowly, and that was really all the confirmation he needed.

He'd just spoken Japanese, and he'd no idea how.

"Anta wa Ezio o shitte imasu ka?"

It had sounded so foreign, so broken, but it hadn't been broken by an American accent.

"Ne! Desumond!"

He didn't know how, but the Bleeding Effect was already getting so much worse. What was next? Wasn't it enough that he was seeing ghosts everywhere?

Instinct was all that warned him as he was suddenly tackled, trying and failing to use any skill to keep his balance. Not for the first time, Alex was sitting on top of him, hands shaking as he glared and gripped the collar of his sweater.

"Oshiete!" he demanded, but for the life of him, Desmond could even hope to understand all but one thing.

Alex was lost in the Bleeding Effect.

"Are you absolutely sure?" Lucy asked once Desmond had managed to get a (struggling) teen back into the Sanctuary.

"He keeps asking for Ezio, and he recognizes Italian instead of English. I'm not the smartest guy here, but even I know they don't teach Italian to grade schoolers in Japan," he sighed, sitting Alex down in the Animus chair for the time being.

"I hate to admit it, but Desmond's got a point," Shaun sighed. All ties turned onto the Englishman, who was busy typing away at his computer. After a good few minutes, he turned around and stepped aside, indicating the monitor. "And he's right. Abstergo had their hands on him, yeah? This here, ladies and gentleman, is the Animus Project's Subject 11."

"That can't be right," Lucy interjected, looking over the files. "This isn't Subject 11, there's no—!" Her eyes widened in realization, stepping away from the monitor, a dark, guilt-ridden scowl on her face, turning and leaving Desmond and the others to stare at her back. The thick silence quickly became suffocating.

"Luce... ?" Rebecca started slowly, approaching the blond.

A few more minutes passed before Lucy let out a heavy sigh, turning to look at the others.

"There was one Subject that Vidic didn't let me interact with. Subject 11. I didn't know anything about... well, him. Whenever I asked, Vidic would tell me to just keep an eye on someone else."

* * *

><p>"Ezio," Machiavelli said slowly, his gaze never leaving their tied-up charge. "Who is this?"<p>

"This? This is un demone — a _demon_," the Assassin replied a simply. "He speaks in a tongue that no one has ever heard, can jump from heights no man has ever dared try before, and has weapons the likes of which no blacksmith has ever seen."

"This is a child... "

"You did not see what I saw."

"And what _exactly_ did you see?" the older man questioned with a raised brow. Ezio hesitated, unable to form the right words. Dark eyes went down to the young, blue-clad boy at his feet, meeting a defiant, yellow-gold glare.

He had brought the strange child (teenager?) back to the hideout out of instinct, out of a desire and hope that Machiavelli might be able to help solve this. The boy hadn't been the slightest bit happy, naturally, and in the end Ezio had resulted in tying him up. A lot.

He was silently grateful that he'd thought to 'borrow' rope from various Borgia guards.

"Ore wa jiyūda toki ni, ore wa anta no nodo o tsukami, anta no teashi kara teashi, rokudenashi o rippingu shimasu!"

The outburst brought him back to reality. He blinked, staring at the foreigner, then looking up to see Machiavelli's stupefied expression. The corners of Ezio's mouth twitched into a smug smirk.

"I see what you mean," the older man said after a while. "However, if this is a supposed 'demone,' then what made you want to bring him here?"

At this, Ezio easily crossed the room and took a hold of the foreigner's sword, which he'd taken off so as not to leave a potential enemy armed. Bringing it back to Machiavelli, he examined the hilt of the strange thing himself before holding it out to the other Assassin. "It is not an exact match, but it is our mark."

"And what of his finger?"

"He wears gloves. I could barely keep up and tie him, let alone take off a glove."

The foreigner, seeming to be annoyed with being ignored, started yelling what he could only assume was threats in that strange language of his. It reached a point when Ezio quickly rounded on the teen, barely reigning in his temper.

"Taci! Capito? We cannot understand you! (2)" he snapped. He growled in frustration when his only response was a string of what he could only guess were curses. The Italian Assassin shot out a hand and grabbed the front of the foreigner's clothes, yanking him to his feet, ignoring the indignant yelp and Machiavelli's warning.

Yet as he opened his mouth to shout something, a very real pressure suddenly filled the room. Fear in the opposing, yellow-gold eyes were his only warning when, suddenly, the smaller boy yelled, and the room filled with a bright, golden light. Ezio released him and stumbled back out of instinct, shielding his eyes with an arm.

"Ezio! Look out!"

He looked up and dodged just in time, a swift "Merda!" escaping him as he looked at the potential threat.

Where he'd stood not seconds before was a long, blindingly-golden blade that was attached to what he only assumed as the foreign boy's back. Said boy was standing there in a defensive stance, ropes cut and splayed around him. What caught his eyes, however, were the very real, unmistakeable wings spread out, pure, bright white and golden with the most peculiar pattern all over them.

"Your assumption wasn't far off," Machiavelli hissed, and Ezio glanced at him briefly, noting his own defensive stance. "Un demone indeed. Any ideas?"

The Assassin grit his teeth and shook his head, reflexively shooting out his hidden blade as he watched the young boy. The blade that had shot out at him drew back slowly, and Ezio narrowed his eyes, trying to find an opening.

He found none.

"We need to calm him down," Machiavelli spoke carefully, warningly. "Threatening him was what caused this."

"He can't understand us and we can't understand him," Ezio shot back. "How do you intend to get him to calm down?"

"Letting him fight you might be the best choice."

"And if he kills me?"

"Then you are obviously not the one to defeat the Borgia and you will be sorely missed."

"Bastardo... "

He grit his teeth and sighed, withdrawing his Hidden Blade and focusing again on the foreigner. Ezio held his hands up to either side in a surrender, stepping closer to their captive.

"Kura na!" the boy yelled when he had crossed about half of the distance between them, and Ezio froze when those bladed wings were suddenly around him. He sucked in a breath, keeping his hands up, keeping his eyes on the boy.

"Calmati, sí? (3)" he spoke carefully, slowly moving one hand to his hood and taking it down. He felt exposed, naked even, but it had the desired effect. The bladed wings drew back slightly, more, perhaps, out of curiousity than understanding. "We do not want to hurt you."

He placed one hand flat on his chest and dropped the other by his side. "Ezio." He gestured towards Machiavelli, but the bladed wings moved towards him again, and he froze, continuing to meet the foreign boy's eyes. After a moment, when his instincts told him it was safe, he gestured again towards his fellow Assassin. "Machiavelli." He slowly, this more cautiously, gestured towards the foreign boy, inviting him, hoping he would understand. "Il tuo nome? (4)"

It was a long silence that stretched as the boy seemed to be contemplating both his actions and his words. Yet it was a small relief when the bladed wings drew back to their owner, and Ezio found himself able to relax just the slightest bit, even when the boy decided to cautiously step closer towards him until they were but a few steps apart.

"E-Etsu~io," the boy repeated slowly, gesturing towards him. The Assassin was puzzled for a moment, but nodded once he understood the foreigner was repeating his name. A flicker of something showed in those yellow-gold eyes before they focused behind him, and Ezio allowed himself to turn enough so he could look at his fellow Assassin. "M-Makia... b-beri?"

He silently thanked whatever gods existed that he had a good Poker Face. Machiavelli's expression of having his name so brutally butchered by an alien language was priceless. He took a moment to ensure he wouldn't burst into laughter, then nodded at the foreign boy. "Sí," he said, allowing the briefest of smiles to show. He pointed at the boy. "Il tuo nome?"

The young boy looked confused for a moment longer before his eyes widened in realization. He placed a hand on his chest, and Ezio knew he must be grinning behind his mask. "Kouwashi. Iga no Kouwashi."

The amount of pride he could hear in his voice led him to believe he must be introducing his birthplace in much the same manner he would have.

"So we have a name now," Machiavelli said slowly. He still look irritated, Ezio noted, but he decided it would be wiser not to comment.

"And maybe a birthplace," Ezio added.

"We will have to correct his speech as well. And find out what those... " Machiavelli gestured to the golden wings but didn't finish the sentence. "See if La Volpe or Claudia can find Leonardo."

"You do not know where he is?"

"The last we heard of him, he had gotten into the Borgia's inner circle. His last report was a few weeks ago, before the attack on Monterigionni."

Kouwashi, seeming to lack interest, wandered about the hideout. Ezio watched him briefly before deeming him no threat, focusing back on Machiavelli. "I will have them find him, but see if you can get in contact."

The older Assassin nodded and bowed slightly before walking away and out the room. Hearing the gate of the tunnel entrance open and close, he knew Machiavelli had left. Sighing, Ezio looked around, listening to the silence. In all but a few seconds, however, he realized he literally heard nothing in the Hideout, taking a deep breath to calm the growing annoyance building up once more.

He had a feeling the next few weeks would be fairly long.

* * *

><p><strong>AN - **So, this is part two. Meanwhile, I need to get the next two parts done by next Tuesday, as well as work and draw and do college stuff. Wheeeeeee~

__(1) - "Put those wings away!"

(2) - "Be quiet! Okay?" (roughly)

(3) - "Calm down, yes?"

(4) - "Your name?"


	3. Part 3

If there was one thing he hated the most, it would have to be the nightmares. It would be him ― Ezio, Altair ― having killed someone, people dying around him ― them ― and there wasn't a thing anyone could do about it. The most common nightmare of late, however, was with him ― Desmond, himself ― blending into his two ancestors, unable to tell what's real and what's a hallucination. He would lose all sense of time and reality, see Templar guards walking through the 21st Century streets.

He was losing himself to the Bleeding Effect far more quickly than he'd care to admit.

And looking at Alex was basically like looking at his future.

It was driving him crazy.

After they had gotten Alex to calm down and be quiet, kept busy by a puzzle ring (courtesy of Rebecca) that seemed to captivate his attention, Lucy and Shaun had spent the rest of the night digging into Abstergo's network, pulling up any files they could on the mysterious, blue-haired boy. Desmond had joined Rebecca and watched Alex for a little while, but he'd eventually tried to get some sleep.

Keyword: Tried.

He looked up at the clock, groaning as he realized he'd only managed a full two hours of sleep, give or take a few minutes spent trying to calm himself down. It was in these moments that he heard the small, inaudible sounds, the almost-not-there whimper. He dared to get up, careful not to make too much sound as he searched around for some water as well as the sound. Quietly snagging a water bottle off the lone table, he wanders around, Eagle Vision revealing a small golden trail leading behind the statue of Altair.

Ah, hell...

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he carefully set down the water bottle and made his way over, gently shoving equipment out of the way (and nearly having a full-on heart attack when the shelves in particular made a nasty, loud sound against the echoing marble). When he could squeeze by comfortably he did so. Predictably, he did see the occasional ghost running past, more than once having to shake his head to snap out of it, but he thankfully didn't have to walk too far, simply to the first (or last, depending on how one looked at it) bridge.

Alex was there, sitting up against the wall, knees brought up to his chest and curled into a ball so tight, Desmond briefly wondered just how old he really was. The wings were gone, but judging by how the blue-haired teen had a hand attempting to reach over his shoulder, they weren't quite forgotten.

"Alex?" the American called cautiously. He was prepared to use his ancestor's name, but was surprised when watery, pained golden eyes flicked up to him at the mention of his name. And what he was in them was complete and utter confusion, not a single trace of knowing who or where he was.

"D-Desumond," Alex said. He licked his lips, mouth opening to speak again, but words lost on his tongue. It was obvious to him ― Desmond ― that Alex was struggling, still fighting the losing battle against the Bleeding Effect, even if he had clearly lost so long ago.

He was strong. A lot stronger than Desmond was, for sure.

"I... d-don't... " The Japanese accent was thick, thoroughly drenching the words, but at least Desmond was sure of the fact that they had definitely been English and not Italian.

"Don't what?" he asked, trying to ease an answer out of the boy. All he received was a pained grunt in response as Alex curled tighter, eyes squeezed shut, hands fisting his hair in an effort to fend off what Desmond figured was a headache. The American sighed and sat next to the boy. "It's okay. Don't force yourself to talk if you can't."

He didn't know what he could do. They barely knew anything about Alex, and what they did know came from a file buried deep in the bowels of Abstergo's Database. Abstergo's had simply picked him off the streets.

"W-Wakaranai," Alex spoke again. Any other time that wasn't now, Desmond would have probably chastised the boy, but he had a vague idea ― he thought he did, anyway ― what Alex was saying. "I-I... d-don't... know... "

The blue-haired boy grimaced again, a small groan rumbling in the back of his throat. Desmond sighed, reaching over and rubbing gentle circles into Alex's back. It seemed to soothe him a little.

"C-Can't... who am... I? Ore... B-Boku wa Alex. Masato A-Alex... !" The younger male took in a sharp breath, a small cry escaping him as he pressed his fists harder against his head. His teeth were grit together so tight, Desmond was worried he might end up grinding them to dust.

"H-Hey, calm down," he said, giving the boy a small shake. When that didn't work, he shook him again, this time a little more roughly. "Snap out of it, come on!"

Desmond heard the urgency that had crept into his voice, but he didn't dwell too long on it when Alex looked up at him. The younger male took in a shuddering breath and, much to the American's surprise, he wound up slumping against him, all the tension just fleeing from his body. At first he didn't know what to do, his hand awkwardly placed on the other's back. When the smaller frame trembled lightly, Desmond gave in and wrapped his arms around Alex. He counted mentally, and after about five long seconds he was hearing stifled sobs.

This was... unexpected.

Even more unexpected was that the younger boy clung to him, trying to huddle in his arms ― which was easy for him, actually. And then stifled sobs turned into unstifled and then Desmond was completely unsure of just how far broken Alex was.

It had to have been at least an hour that they spent like that. One full, admittedly awkward, hour. At one point they did decide to go back, but only when he was sure Alex had been alright (which he assumed was the case, after hearing sentences that were half Japanese and half broken English while simultaneously rubbing away the remainder of his tears).

He was just glad none of the others asked any questions when they went back.

"Where were you?" Lucy asked as they walked back into the Sanctuary. It was, of course, directed at him, since Alex quickly gained that confused 'What-Are-You-Saying' look of his.

"He snuck off and I went to find him," Desmond replied easily, indicating Alex. "Didn't want him getting hurt again."

There was something in her gaze that seemed scrutinizing, but she turned away too quickly for him to identify anything.

"Right, well!" His gaze went to Shaun, who was already type-typing away at his laptop. The British man hadn't even turned to look at him. "Let's get to work, yes?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Into the Animus he went for another few hours, jumping on roofs and working through Ezio's memories. They had found the memories containing Kouwashi, but they had been few and far between. Even if they accessed them, they had been far too glitchy to do much of anything. Even the main memories had the ninja just barely within sight.

"Why is this guy so hard to track?" he heard Rebecca say grumpily as Desmond had Ezio sit on top of a building for the time being.

"There's very little info about Kouwashi to begin with, according to the records. He dropped off the face of the earth at the turn of the century." That was Shaun. Definitely Shaun.

"And that's when he met Ezio, right? In Rome?"

"Pretty much."

A few more hours of unsuccessfully trying to access the 'Kouwashi Memories,' as they'd decided to uncleverly name them, and they'd decided to call it quits for the day. Coming out of the Animus was never fun, though at least it had been amusing to come out seeing Shaun try to get Alex to stop hovering over his shoulder while he worked.

Later on, after they all ended the day and had either gone to sleep or taken their position for Day Watch, Desmond was surprised when he woke up from a peaceful rest.

He was even less surprised when he found Alex sleeping next to him, tucked as close as possible to him (that he figured the Japanese boy dared, at least), with his wings draped over the both of them.

"He got pretty comfortable there."

Desmond looked up to see Rebecca standing over him, a smile over her face. He arced a brow at her, and she chuckled quietly.

"I noticed him moving earlier. And usually when you're in the Animus, he's watching you nearby. Almost like a kid brother."

"Or a pet," the man huffed, closing his eyes and ignoring the way Rebecca grinned knowingly at him and walked away. May as well enjoy it while he could.

* * *

><p>Perhaps the most uneventful part about being an Assassin was following targets. Sometimes it was harder when they formed into groups of, say, five, but for the most part, that hadn't happened yet in Roma. What made it just a little bit more annoying was―<p>

"How long do you think the Maestro expects us to―"

"Sshh! He'll hear us!"

"He's far too focused on watching the target!"

"Y-You don't know that!"

He heard two indignant, somewhat muffled yelps. Ezio turned around to see the both of his newest apprentices clutching the back of their heads and Kouwashi standing over them, arms folded and shrouded in the shadows as much as the full moon overhead would allow. The Italian Assassin barely fought back a grin, but a smirk managed to slip for a brief moment as he approached his students.

"Patience is the key," he explained once they had looked up at him. "If we were to strike now, we do not know what kind of information we will have missed. And silence is important in preventing discovery. An Assassin moves with the shadows, and strikes only when the time is right. Intesi?"

Both Apprentices nodded, and Ezio quickly turned and started making up for lost time. They had stilled for far too long, the target just now rounding a corner. He wouldn't be surprised if they had lost him. Cursing softly, he quickly looked around, recognizing their current area as the Colle Palatino.

Alright... now where was he... ?

He made it back to the ground, glancing up discreetly to catch eye contact with Kouwashi and the recruits. With a simple nod of his head, he advanced carefully, a prideful smirk coming to his face when he caught sit of the target:

Silvestro Sabbatini, slave trader and Templar under Cesarean Borgia.

He was talking to some guards. About what, he frankly couldn't care less. The man would die for his deeds.

Glancing up towards his fellow Assassin and Apprentices, he made a small whistling sound, indicating towards the group before he dashed in. Ezio was able to get the jump on one of the guards' back, literally jumping on and shoving his hidden blade into the back of his exposed neck. The man died silently, but his actions had alerted the others. Various shouts of "There he is!" and "Get him!" were enough of a warning for him to jump back. Yet a blue blur falling from the sky landed on one of the guards, impaling him with his own hidden blade, and Kouwashi effortlessly spun on his heel and rounded on the third and final guard.

"You will not kill me, Assassin!" Sabbatini exclaimed, charging at Ezio with his claw. He didn't get far before two arrows lodged themselves into him, each in his chest, and he fell forward. The Italian looked up at his Apprentices, nodding his approval as they lowered their bows and began their descent. He approached the dead man, turning him over onto his back, kneeling down and closing them.

"Requiescat in Pace," he said, standing up momentarily to face his Apprentices. "You must respect your targets even in death. Do not sink to their level." Kouwashi was apparently busy moving the bodies out of sight. Perhaps it was a custom of his lands.

"Maestro?" one of the Apprentices spoke, earning his attention. This was... Antonio, if he remembered correctly. "Forgive my prying, but who is the boy, and why does he not speak our language?"

"His name is Kouwashi. He comes from a distant land to the east. We are still trying to figure out exactly where. He is definitely an ally, however."

The Apprentices seemed satisfied with this answer, and after his dismissal, they went off, likely back to the Isola Tiberina hideout. Ezio let out a small sigh, hands on his hips for a brief moment before he dropped his arms and faced Kouwashi. The foreign Assassin had successfully hidden the bodies, to the point where he wasn't even sure where they had gone.

It was dark, and the full moon was glaring down t them, but at lest it provided light. The two walked in somewhat comfortable silence to the horses they had left behind, and made the journey back.

Roma really was far too big for his tastes, Ezio noted. He was more used to the crowded little streets of Firenze. At least, however, he wasn't alone. While Kouwashi certainly couldn't provide the best of (or any) conversations, his presence was better than nothing.

Hours rolled by, they found rest in the Hideout, and soon the next day rolled by. One of the strangest things Ezio could say was that he never managed to get a glimpse of Kouwashi sleeping. The Italian found himself falling asleep before the younger boy; and by the time he woke up, said boy was always perched on top of the roof. The only thing that truly bugged him was how Kouwashi's eyes always seemed to be just a little bit too gold sometimes, especially in the darkness of the early morning.

Machiavelli, at least, had started to find some answers. There was supposedly a land to the far east, but what it was called, no one yet knew. And as of yet, they couldn't ask Kouwashi, because the boy didn't even understand a thing they said!

Leonardo would have easily been able to work on that. Kouwashi had at least picked up the phrases "Calmati" and "Il tuo nome?" So at the very least, people knew his name and could attempt to get him to relax.

It was particularly early one morning, however, when he was met with a peculiar surprise.

As he walked stepped out onto a main street particularly close to Isola Tiberina, he was surprised by a familiar red cloak that zipped past him. Bewildered, he followed closely, dark eyes quickly widening in surprise.

"Leonardo?" he exclaimed, perhaps a little dumb founded. Sure enough, the master engineer turned and rounded on him. Despite being out of breath, he still quickly bore a grin.

"Ezio!" Leonardo exclaimed. "So good to see you!" He kept looking around for something, the Assassin noted.

"Is something wrong?" Ezio asked curiously.

"No! Well, yes... maybe?" Leonardo removed his cap to scratch at his head. "I saw a boy being chased by the Borgia Guards. I do not know why, but he bumped into me and took my money."

The Assassin frowned at this. "What did he look like?"

"Young, yet his eyes were a piercing gold, and his garbs as dark blue as the midnight sky. They were strange. I could barely see his face."

Ezio closed his eyes, counting back from ten as he felt his irritation quickly grow.

"Ezio?"

"It is nothing. I will find your money. Wait right here, and I'll be back momentarily."

Somehow, a part of him felt like he shouldn't really be at all surprised. Another part of him was just annoyed because hey, he could be.

It wasn't difficult, finding the chaos. All he had to do was follow the path of grumbling people. Then if he couldn't find that, he just followed the sounds of an alien language, some angry Borgia guards, and sounds of fighting.

He couldn't help but wonder if Kouwashi was really an Assassin sometimes.

It was the golden, bladed wings, however, that made him curse swiftly.

"What sorcery is this?"

"Uccidete il demone!" (1)

They were swift and deadly, and not a single innocent soul was willing to stick around.

When Kouwashi spotted him, however, he didn't even have a chance before he was grabbed. And, with an indignant yelp, he was swept off his feet and up into the air, and they teleported.

Teleported.

Ezio could by no means say it was a pleasant first-time experience. All he could determine after the event was that it wasn't much of a distance, perhaps a few streets at best. And it was making him nauseous already, as well as a bit dizzy. There wasn't enough time between when Kouwashi touched and pushed off a building, however, to voice his concern before they had teleported once again.

A sharp cry, a surprised yell, a splash; and suddenly, everything was wet around them.

It took a moment to gain his bearings, realizing that they must fallen into the Tevere. Squinting, at least he was able to determine that this was a clean part of the river. What he couldn't find, however, was a pair of golden wings (because those were the easiest to notice in their current state).

Air... He needed air.

He swam up, breaking the surface and taking in a much-needed gasp of air. A quick scan around also revealed both staring eyes, guards yelling at him to get out...

... but no Kouwashi.

"Oh, you're joking," he muttered quickly before sucking in a deep breath and diving back into the water. He looked around, searching, trying to find any hint of his companion.

'Of course he can't swim,' he mentally grumbled. 'Why would he be able to swim? He's only a demone!'

Thankfully it was an easy search, and he found the boy struggling at the bottom of the river. He reached him just as Kouwashi let loose the remainder of his air, body instinctively trying to breathe in the air that was not available. Ezio hooked an arm around the foreigner's waist and pushed off the bottom, swimming quickly to the surface and breaking it.

He was far more trouble than he was worth, the Italian was beginning to think.

He wasn't even going to begin questioning what the strange boy was thinking, listening to him cough and curse. As it stood, it seemed Kouwashi was more annoyed with the fact that Ezio had to carry him out of the water. And never mind the stares of the various citizens and guards as the blue-clad assassin (because he figured that was pretty much the case) practically screamed whatever threats and profanity (again, he was sure this was the case) in that foreign tongue of his at the top of his lungs.

He honestly didn't know which was causing more of a scene: The fact that he was carrying another male like a woman, or the fact that said male was yelling in an alien language.

Once safe on the shore, Ezio none-too-gently allowed Kouwashi to stand on his own legs, an indignant yelp being his response. The Italian watched as Kouwashi groomed himself, continuing to mutter things under his breath, and made sure all his weapons were in order.

As he opened his mouth to say anything, however, he was met with angry, bright-gold eyes that just glared, and Ezio found himself scowling right back, determined not to back down.

Then―

"... A-Arigatou... "

If he hadn't been a trained Assassin, he would have most definitely missed the quiet little word (words?). He blinked, arcing a brow in surprise, but his gaze softened a little when he noted the barely-there, red tint to the other's cheeks just before Kouwashi pulled his mask up, covering everything except his eyes.

Ezio allowed a small smile to tug at his lips, reaching over and ruffling Kouwashi's hair before the other had a chance to retaliate and/or pull up his hood, then indicated for him to follow so they could make their way through the streets of Roma once more.

* * *

><p><strong>AN - **Not really many translations needed here. Most of it is just phrases from the game that should easily be recognizable, at least. I'll add translations if people honestly don't know what they mean. As always, take these translations with a big fat handful of salt.

(1) - "Kill the demon!"


	4. Part 4

Just one more inch. Only one more—

"Now!"

A quiet whistle. An indignant yelp. A pair of satisfied smirks.

"Oh, would the two of you grow up already?"

Desmond smugly high-fived Alex, all the while ignoring the now-soaked Shaun who was glowering down at the two of them.

"You're getting all your... your Americanness all over the poor boy!" the British man exclaimed, pointing down at Alex, who was glaring at the offending finger.

"In my defense, he had the slingshot before I could stop him," Desmond retorted, doing a very poor job of hiding his own amusement. "He's got a pretty good shot."

"He is also bloody barmy! What if he decided to use a knife or, or some kind Japanese thing!"

"Well, Shaun, then we'd have taken it away from him. Come on, it was just a water balloon."

Shaun simply stalked off. Desmond sighed, looking down at Alex, who merely flipped the slingshot in his hands easily enough. The American tried not to roll his eyes, or make a face, or anything. It was tempting, with Shaun's back turned. A sneeze brought his attention back to the smaller boy beside him, however. He chuckled.

"Don't get sick on me," Desmond said, patting Alex on the shoulder. He could safely say that, after a couple more days, he was beginning to feel a little comfortable with the Japanese boy around. Rebecca and Lucy flat-out adored him, though the latter would never admit it out loud. He swore that even Shaun was taking to the Japanese boy.

Of course, the coughing only seemed to get a lot worse as time went on in the day, no matter how many bottles of water the younger boy was given. The next day had him sleeping most of the time in Desmond's sleeping bag, and by the third day, it was pretty clear that Alex was seriously ill with... something. They didn't know what, exactly, but it couldn't be the common cold if he was reacting so... violently.

"His fever's sitting at about forty degrees," Shaun stated bluntly. He sighed with exasperation at the astounded looks on the three Americans. "Celsius, people! Forty degrees Celsius!"

"That's... what, is that high?" Desmond asked.

"That's about a hundred and four in Fahrenheit," Lucy informed, saving Shaun the trouble.

"Oh... "

"As long as he doesn't get any higher, we won't need to take him to a doctor. We're gonna need to get his temperature down, though, and fast."

"What about those?" Rebecca asked, who was sitting next to Alex and gesturing to the golden wings twitching weakly behind him. The boy had outright refused to roll onto his back because of them. "They haven't done anything yet, but we don't know how long that'll last."

"I could stay with him?" Desmond suggested, though that earned him a swift glare from Shaun.

"Absolutely not. We need you in the Animus, we need Rebecca running it, and we need Lucy and I backing you up every step of the way. Just because he's sick, doesn't mean we drop everything to take care of him," the Brit snapped.

"Shaun's right," Lucy sighed, stepping in and forcing Desmond to keep his mouth shut. "We can't really afford to. We can check on him during breaks and throughout the day, but that's about all we can do. Maybe... " She sighed, crossing her arms. "Maybe I can move my stuff over and watch over him while we work. But that's about all I—we can do."

And so that was what was done. It took a little rearranging, testing, and reorganizing, but Lucy was able to relocate her work station to be closer to Alex. Needless to say, despite what she had said, Lucy seemed to focus more on taking care of Alex than actual work. She would make sure he had water, make sure there was some way to keep his fever from spiking any higher. Somehow she was still able to provide the information he needed while in the Animus.

"Focus, Desmond. You're gonna end up desynchronizing if you keep getting distracted like that."

"I know, Shaun, I know," he bit back while making Ezio do a series of intricate swipes of the hidden blade. Always, out of the corner of his eye, there was Kouwashi just dancing away with his own swordplay. If he didn't focus, he could see the moves well enough. The Japanese Ancestor was nimble, just as small as Alex, but was also much more hidden in his attire.

A cry of pain got him distracted just enough for a guard to swipe at his—Ezio's vambraces. It didn't sound like it was coming from inside the Animus, and he didn't dare chance a glance at Kouwashi. Well, he did... or rather, Ezio did.

His first good look at Kouwashi was to see the Japanese ancestor sent flying into a wall. Desmond knew he couldn't control any of Ezio's next actions, simply gave in as he watched his own ancestor fly into a rage and successfully kill off the remaining three guards, including the one lucky (or stupid) enough to injure Kouwashi. He found himself feeling a slight sense of pity for the guard.

Ezio knelt next to Kouwashi after that, looking right at him and helping the boy up, asking if he was okay but only receiving a biting remark in Japanese in return. Desmond didn't miss the single Italian-spoken 'I'm fine,' though. Kouwashi looked almost identical to Alex (or the other way around). His traditional Assassin's garb reminded him a lot of a ninja, but there was no mistaking the red sash, the Assassin symbol. The leather vambraces that Kouwashi wore were unusual, though, and from his view point, he couldn't tell exactly where the hidden blade was, or how it worked, or anything.

"This is... really fascinating," he heard Shaun say, and Desmond made Ezio look up despite himself before he just shook his head and continued to listen while moving about. "Ezio must have been able to teach him a few words. How is beyond me, but... it's clear that they had some kind of understanding. And then there's the level of skill—how old is Kouwashi here? He doesn't look older than twenty, but he fights like he's done this his whole life."

"Maybe he has?"

"The Syrian Assassins were like that," came Lucy's voice. "They trained from a young age. It wouldn't surprise me if the Japanese were the same way."

"So Kouwashi is like Altair now... "

"More or less."

It was a breakthrough for them, to get any kind of information on Kouwashi, let alone what he looked like. A few more hours at the endeavor, however, proved fruitless as the Kouwashi Memories quickly became far too glitchy beyond what they had seen. They called it quits, kept at it for a few more hours to advance Ezio's story in relation to the Piece of Eden in order to find it, before Desmond was allowed to step out of the Animus.

Alex was there.

Staring.

"Holy shit!" the American yelped, practically falling out of the Animus when he jumped. Rebecca's indignant cry and shove was enough to right his balance, and he moved swiftly out of her way as she inspected the Animus (her 'poor Baby,' as she kept cooing at it) for some kind of damage. He resisted the urge roll his eyes, instead focusing on Alex, then to Lucy, who was sighing. She was right next to the Japanese boy, he realized.

"He woke up a little while ago," she explained, "and I couldn't get him back to sleep."

"He's like your own personal puppy dog!" Shaun shot from his work station, and Desmond glared at his shaking back. Ass.

Sighing, the American knelt in front of Alex, who had the sleeping bag draped over him like a blanket, and that was when he noticed that he was fingering an invisible something on his wrist. He arched a brow, looking into the slightly dazed, otherwise lucid eyes of the teen. He gestured to Alex's wrist. "Fammi vedere?"

Desmond was immediately surprised by how compliant Alex was. The teen pulled back his jacket's sleeve, revealing a carefully crafted, old vambrace. It wasn't hard at all to piece together what it was.

"No. Way," Rebecca breathed, the first to break the growing silence. "Is that actually—"

Alex pulled whatever trigger was on the vambrace to reveal the hidden blade on the side. The engineer let out a whistle.

"I'm... not sure how I feel about having him armed," Shaun said, having joined them finally. "He may be an Assassin, and he may have those... things... on his back, but he's still lost his marbles."

"Oh, come on. At least give him a little credit," Desmond sighed.

"Excuse me for not wanting a schizophrenic to shove a knife into my back during a panic attack!"

* * *

><p>While Ezio could say that Kouwashi was a more than capable fighter, there were still a lot of things about the boy that confused him, things that didn't relate to where he had come from (of which progress had been made, but all they knew now was that it was a place called "Nihon").<p>

First and foremost was the wings and what other abilities they had. It was obvious by their texture and otherworldly presence that they were in some way related to the Apple of Eden, which he and Machiavelli easily agreed upon.

Next was Kouwashi's wardrobe. He had received a chance at better examining the garbs after the alien boy had a bad fightt with a few too many Borgia guards, and had needed quite some time to heal. Ezio had assigned some novices to the task of washing them, but everyone had been more than a little amazed at the lack of armour... anywhere. In fact, the only piece of armour he saw on Kouwashi, noted with further pondering, was the pair of vambraces housing his hidden blades and his boots, which also seemed to have blades coming out from the sides. As far as he saw, Kouwashi was armoured almost as much as the Novices. He suspected the wings perhaps had some ability to turn into armour, but he would never get a chance to investigate further.

And then finally... there was the hidden blade.

It made no sense to him. There were two on each vambrace — that he was aware, because for all he knew, there could be a third! It seemed impractical to him, no matter how many times Ezio had Kouwashi show him how the blasted things worked. Clench a fist, and the side blade would pop out. Flick the wrist, and the straight one would come out. Two separate muscle movements for two different blades that, for whatever reason, the alien boy had deemed necessary.

Ezio didn't like it.

"How is it practical?" he asks, though he doesn't really expect an answer from the boy currently staring at him in confusion. "Why not just one blade? And why in such strange places?"

"Perhaps it is the style," Machiavelli suggested, examining the vambrace now. "It does a fair amount of damage. From the side, the blade can act as a form of defense as well as added power to a punch. As for the boots—" He gestured to Kouwashi who was wearing them, and the boy did something to make the much thicker, sturdier blades on them pop out. "—I can imagine that is because he kicks. Quite well, in fact."

"He's like a dancer, then."

"A deadly dancer, if you'd like to put it like that."

"È stupido (1). He puts his body at greater risk to look like a ballerina with weapons?"

"Sei stupido! (2)" Kouwashi snapped, startling the two Italians. Ezio only scowled at him, a fair bit of surprise in his eyes, while Machiavelli struggled to contain his laughter — a rare sight indeed.

"It seems our little alien is picking up phrases," the nobleman finally managed.

After that, Kouwashi seemed to get even more silent than usual, which admittedly unnerved Ezio. He found it difficult to keep track of the foreign Assassin and even switched to Eagle Vision a few times just to make sure the boy wasn't about to attack him.

"Well, you did mock his style," Claudia had tried to reason the day he'd gone to visit the Rosa in Fiora. "So it's no wonder he's upset."

"He does not even know what I'm saying. What is he getting offended about?"

"Ora che tu sia testardo (3). He still hears your tone of voice. And I bet you were even pointing at him."

Ezio kept his mouth shut, not liking that his sister was correct. He sighed as he slumped in his chair, looking around the Rosa in Fiora. He'd needed to get some information on a target and to introduce the newest Assassin recruits, and naturally Kouwashi had followed (however moodily).

Kouwashi, who was currently surrounded by the courtesans not occupied by clients, looked ready to jump out of his own skin.

It was an entertaining scene, to say the least. The Novices were having a hard time trying not to laugh, though were failing miserably. Ezio even admitted to having a hard time trying not to grin.

"He's soooo cute," he heard one of the girls say.

"And young, too! He can't be that old at all!" said another.

"Do you think Ezio would let us keep him?"

If nothing else, Kouwashi was skittish. When one of the girls had tried to take off his mask, he'd panicked and ended up scampering behind an unsuspecting Maria, who had been amused just as much. She ended the fun by giving the girls some things to do, and she hadn't seemed to mind when Kouwashi refused to leave her side even once they were gone.

"Why don't you duel him?" Claudia suggested, bringing Ezio's attention back to her.

"Scusi?"

"Sí. You doubt his skills and his weapons," she went on. "Why not see if they are as bad as you say? If they are, you should have no problem beating him."

"We are Assassins, not mercenaries," Ezio stated.

"Then think of it as training! He has a different style; and if you can adapt to it, perhaps you can even improve your own abilities!"

"I would like to see the Maestro fight against the alien," one of the Assassin recruits chipped in, though swiftly backed down at the scowl he received.

"We have room in the back!" Claudia said excitedly.

Ezio resigned his fate, and just a few minutes later found himself on the back balcony, adjusting his vambraces while standing opposite of Kouwashi, who seemed wary, if more confused. Maria had managed to at least keep the younger Assassin from fleeing the scene... somehow.

"No wings," he said simply, pulling his hood forward a bit more when Kouwashi pulled his mask up. "No tsubasa," he repeated, using the word he'd heard the other call the strange wings on his back."

He took a stance, and it was in that moment that he knew Kouwashi understood what was going on. Instantly, the foreigner dropped into his own stance, looking like a boxer more than anything with his arms in front of his face. Ezio knew, though, that those clenched fists would trigger whatever hidden blade hid in those gauntlets. He wasn't naive enough to underestimate Kouwashi.

The younger Assassin acted first, rushing in at a speed that caught Ezio off-guard. He struggled to bring up his own hidden blade in time to deflect the punch thrown his way, only to hiss as his cheek was cut. The Italian grit his teeth, wondering now if maybe he should fight with at least his dagger.

Kouwashi threw a punch again, only this time Ezio managed to counter it and get in a flurry of his own strikes, forcing the foreign Assassin onto the defensive for the time being. He grunted in pain, however, when something sharp pierced his right shoulder. His hand immediately clasped onto it, finding a long needle in it. Hazel eyes looked up into golden ones, then down to the boy's hands. He couldn't see anything there.

"Clever child," Ezio murmured, making a note to find out where the needles came from. He pulled the one on him out, dropping it to the ground and ignoring the small prick of pain, ushering for Kouwashi to come at him again.

They went at it for hours. Ezio would try to knock Kouwashi off-balance and land a strike, and Kouwashi would keep Ezio on the defensive with his quick but powerful strikes. He was very nimble, the Italian noted. So nimble, in fact, that when Ezio knocked him off balance enough to make him stumble backwards, the alien boy used the momentum of it to flip back, push off with his hand, and get back onto his feet. This maneuver earned several gasps and cheers of excitement and surprise.

Even Ezio felt his jaw drop.

It only got more serious after that. Now, whenever Kouwashi was knocked off-balance, he would twist his body to compensate, and would use the momentum of the turn to land a particularly harsh kick. Often, the kick sent Ezio skidding back. He'd had no choice but to follow the force or risk breaking his arms.

He did find an opening. Kouwashi kicked out, a bit too far out. Ezio took the chance to grab the offending leg, smirking at the off-guard look in the boy's eyes. He twisted, the foreign Assassin forced to follow the momentum or risk breaking his leg. The alien recovered, attempting a back kick, which the Italian dodged by letting go. Ezio took advantage of Kouwashi not having balanced yet and quickly went in, hidden blades popping out as he lunged at him. One, two, three strikes he got in, pulling his right arm back for momentum to attempt a forth. Kouwashi used it against him, grabbing said arm and forcing an undignified yelp to escape Ezio as he found himself being thrown around his sparring partner. He lost his balance, rolling on the ground and back to his feet to regain it, bringing up his left bracer half a second before Kouwashi could strike him down.

Their blades locked. Hazel eyes looked directly into golden eyes for all but a few seconds. Ezio attempted a swipe at Kouwashi with his free blade, forcing him to jump back or risk getting a serious injury.

A few more maneuvers, several more cuts and torn clothing, a few more minutes, and Ezio had to end the fight when Kouwashi's hidden blade (the normal-looking one) got too close to his throat.

He was defeated.

Both fighters jumped at the sudden, loud cheers erupting around them. Apparently, all the occupants of the Rosa in Fiora had come down at some point to watch the fight. Kouwashi immediately pulled at his hood in an effort to hide his face as much as possible. Ezio only rubbed the back of his neck. Finally, he stepped forward, offering a hand out to Kouwashi. The foreign Assassin stared at it with suspicion. After a few moments of held breath, Kouwashi finally took it, and the two Assassins shook.

* * *

><p>AN - HAHA. HA. Yeah, I've been a bit... sick. And busy. Busy and sick. In fact, I'm still sick. Sorry. I won't be posting a double update, though, out of sheer fact that I don't quiiiite have that big a stockpile of chapters at my disposal.

(1) - "That's stupid."

(2) - "You're stupid!"

(3) - "Now you're being pig-headed." This one is really, really rough. Yeah.


	5. Part 5

It might have been amusing to watch Alex poke at the cup of instant noodles, had Desmond not been starving and trying to down his own cup in one go. Lucy had the both of them go out and scale the buildings of Monterigionni to "get in shape." Needless to say, the workout usually worked up his appetite, though he didn't always get to eat as much as he'd like.

"Kore wa... ?"

He was almost unsure if the question had been spoken to him directly, but the questioning eyes directed his way at least confirmed it. "Noodles," Desmond replied simply, pausing only slightly to answer. "Food."

"F-Food?" Alex repeated, looking so shocked that Shaun, across the table, snorted out loud.

"Yup. Food."

He just knew, from the glint in Alex's eye, that this certainly wouldn't be the end of this issue. Maybe he should warn Lucy...

"He WHAT?"

Less than twelve hours later, and it was already too late. Desmond fought back a groan when he realized that yes, Alex WAS gone, and they hadn't a single clue as to where he'd gone. He and Lucy had spent the better part of their day off to try and find him in the secret passage out of the Sanctuary, but that proved fruitless. Shaun and Rebecca could find nothing except Alex's bandages behind one of the statues. The Japanese boy had simply up and vanished.

"This is bad," Lucy groaned, pacing around the Sanctuary. "This is really, really bad... he's not even capable of communicating! He doesn't even know who he really is!"

"He can fight, though, can't he?" Desmond offered.

"Yes, but what if he wasn't who we thought he was? What if he was a spy for Abstergo?"

"I really, really doubt that," Shaun shot in. "He couldn't understand a word of English. Even I know they wouldn't have wasted their time getting a translator when they could just plug him into an Animus. And you're going to make a hole in the floor if you keep pacing!"

When Lucy didn't seem to hear, Desmond sighed and got up from his seat in the Animus. He put an arm on her shoulder to stop her, smiled at her when she looked to him. "He wouldn't betray us," he said, with so much certainty that she looked skeptical.

"How can you be so sure?" she asked. "Out of everything that's happened, you should be the most suspicious."

"Because he thinks he's Kouwashi, right?" Desmond shrugged, drawing his hand back. "And Kouwashi was loyal to Ezio. He might know I'm not Ezio, but he doesn't know he's Alex. Kouwashi was really loyal to the people he trusted. And that includes all of us. Plus, I think his own personality is leaking through a little. Alex just doesn't look like the type to purposely hurt people without a really good reason."

"If... If you say so... "

The next twenty-four hours were spent warily, preparing for an attack that may or may not come. 'Just in case,' as Lucy had put it. Desmond wasn't even put into the Animus at all during this time. At night, though, he was allowed to wander out of their hideout and so, went running around the sleeping town of Monteriggioni.

It was weird, he decided. Not even a whole day and he already missed Alex's company, even if they couldn't really talk. He wouldn't be lying if he said he considered the Japanese boy as a younger brother. And it was just nice to know that someone knew what he was going through and could help him cope, however unintentionally.

Sighing, Desmond ran a hand through his hair, grumbling. He needed a haircut. He ran a hand along his jaw, grimacing. Maybe a shave, too. He was going to start looking like Ezio at this rate, and he was more than sure that he really didn't need that added to his dwindling sanity.

He saw a flicker of gold in the dark of night, and Desmond had to blink to make sure he hadn't accidentally turned on his Eagle Vision. When it didn't go away, he started to notice the shape of the gold, as well as the movement. They were very obviously wings. He resisted the urge to put his face in his palm, taking a deep breath before he made his way closer. And, sure enough, as expected, it was Alex, only he seemed to be carrying a plastic bag with... a lot of items. And he was talking to someone, excitedly, a big grin on his face.

Who could he know that would understand anything he said?

Desmond tapped the talk button on his headset, still a little dumbfounded. "Guys?"

"What's up, Des?" Rebecca answered. He guessed it was her turn for watch.

"I found Alex... "

"Seriously? Sweet! Where is he?"

"Chatting up a local."

He heard a loud curse from Shaun, though he wasn't quite sure what was said since he had to snatch the headset off his ear or risk going deaf.

"Are you bloody serious?" the Brit demanded.

Needless to say, the plan from there was for Desmond to not get caught by the local or Alex, and to just get straight back to the hideout.

"D-Desumond?"

Alas, luck had never been on his side.

He heard another curse from his headset before he took it off and kept it in his pocket, making sure it was at least still on. Hey, if he was gonna get carted off to Templars, may as well give the others a fighting chance. Looking up, Alex was hovering over him, bewildered but clearly still happy. He broke into an excited grin before he grabbed Desmond's arm and practically dragged him towards the person standing in the doorway of the little house.

A girl, he noted right away, and she was very clearly a foreigner. She almost reminded him of Leonardo, if he'd ever had kids anyway. She had the same kind look as the Renaissance artist. Her hair was, maybe, a little bit more golden, and her eyes maybe a bit bluer, but other than that she had quite a resemblance. Maybe it was just coincidental.

"Can I help you?" she asked, startling him. She had an Italian accent, but she was definitely speaking English. She looked to Alex when the Japanese boy spoke excitedly in his foreign tongue, too quickly for Desmond to even guess what he was saying. Something amusing must have been said, because she giggled before looking back at the American. "You have an interesting brother."

Desmond couldn't keep the stutter out of his voice when he quickly said "H-He's not my brother!"

"Not even adopted?"

"N-No... "

She shrugged, waving her hand. Alex spoke again, asking something, and — to Desmond's complete shock — she replied back in the same language! Whatever it was had the boy let out a whoop before his wings vanished and he was dashing into the house, much to the girl's amusement.

The American could only stare. And so stare he did.

"He is very easy to please, isn't he?" the girl asked, catching Desmond's attention. "Like a, ah... bambino... " She gestured, clearly struggling for the word.

"Like a kid," he offered.

"Sí! And you know Italiano!" A pause, or more like a hum, as the blond girl surveyed him. "So you are 'Desumond.'"

"Desmond, yeah. I only know a little Italian."

"Ah, sí, sí. I did think it was just his accent. Now I know!" He gave her an amused smile, which she returned. "Sono Mikhaila. Would you like to come inside?"

"I don't know—"

"Alex won't be leaving soon." This caught his attention, and now Desmond was regarding her suspiciously. Still, Mikhaila didn't seem to be threatening. Her words were innocent enough, he decided. It helped when she gestured inside. "He is making food for his... 'tomodachi,' as he called it. I can only grasp at words and their meanings. Giapponese é confusione." (1)

"You know more than I do," Desmond said, shrugging slightly.

"Well, come, come! The cold air is getting in!"

He wasn't left with much choice, following her into the house and only praying that he would be let out again. He could already imagine the others panicking and trying to come up with a plan. So far, though, Mikhaila didn't seem like a threat. In fact, she seemed... perfectly normal.

"Your name isn't very Italian... "

"It's Russian, yes. Mama rather liked the names." She led him to the kitchen-slash-dining room, where Alex was already halfway through whatever it was he was making. And it smelled amazing, too, oh god...

"I see... but you're definitely Italian?"

"Sí. Mama e papa taught me inglese — English, if you will. And I learned giapponese on my own, out of curiousity! It is such a nice language."

"But you know what Alex is saying," Desmond said, since this was really the thing that got him.

"Don't you?"

"W—I kinda just found him a few days ago." Damn. He'd almost slipped. It apparently went unnoticed, however, as the girl only beckoned for him to continue. "Plus, Japanese isn't really on my list of languages to learn."

Now Alex was putting some finishing touches. Mikhaila stepped over, and Desmond looked as well. And yes, it did all look so amazing, but also like a typical-style, Japanese lunchbox. From rice to omelets, even some vegetables. Sure, the containers were less than perfect, but the smell alone was making him seriously hungry now.

"W-Want to try?" Alex asked, looking up at Desmond. The accent was still thick, but the words were definitely English. He must've looked confused, because the Japanese boy looked questioningly at Mikhaila, who only reassured him in his native tongue.

"Uh... sure?" Was that the right answer? Apparently yes, as Alex offered up a small portion of food. Really, he just didn't want to offend the boy, so Desmond ate the portion. And yes, yes it was the not fantastic thing he'd ever had in his life. Not that he was unbiased, having lived off instant and unperishable foods for the past few years. It had been a while since he'd had any kind of homemade... well, anything.

Alex was still looking at him expectantly, so Desmond grinned and gave him nodded. "It's good!" And the younger boy looked so relieved and excited that he nearly fumbled in putting together the rest of the containers.

That night, after Desmond and Alex went back to the Sanctuary (and in record time, too, since the sun was almost up), they naturally got an earful from Lucy and Shaun. Rebecca was more or less calmed by the prospect of decent food.

They all could agree, though, that this was the first time in a long time that they'd had any kind of decent food.

* * *

><p>Ezio never saw it coming.<p>

After he'd broken Catarina Sforza out of the Castello, he had barely been surprised to find all the guards of the Vatican, plus the many other Borgia guards, either chasing them or waiting to kill them. It was a miracle in and of itself that Catarina was able to get away the way she did.

... Well... maybe it was also due to his own skill. At least a little.

Now, though...

"M-Merda! Kill the demon!"

There was very little Ezio, himself, could do. They had been fighting the entirety of the Vatican's guards, after all. There had to be over twenty, all just to kill him and Kouwashi for breaking Catarina out. And he would admit, in his age, Ezio was beginning to get slower, more easily susceptible to getting injuries and taking a much longer time to heal from them.

He had been fighting at least five guards, and the sixth had gone unnoticed. He only realized the sixth was there when he'd felt a sharp stab through his side, teeth grit as he forced himself not to scream in pain, which is what his instinct was demanding he do. Ezio wouldn't give the Borgia that kind of satisfaction, though. That did not prevent him from dropping to the ground, of course.

Kouwashi, however, had yelled.

And following that yell was a bright flash of golden light before the world around them greyed, time practically slowed to a crawl. What felt like an eternity must have been only a few split seconds as he watched the foreign Assassin, watching golden wings sprout out. They impaled any and all guards near, and in that moment time returned to normal. Guards dropped as soon as the blades wings withdrew. Kouwashi flew to Ezio, took him, and deposited him in a safe ally nearby before returning to the fight.

After that, Kouwashi flew into a rampage. His dance of blades had an even deadlier feel to it, wings and weapons slicing any guards brave enough to try and fight them before most of them just turned tail and fled. And even then, none seemed able to escape from the foreigner's deadly rampage.

Ezio stood with difficulty, hand pressing into his side to stem some of the blood flow. He knew how bad this situation was, especially when the blades of the wings did a wide, sweeping arc, and managed to catch not just guards now, but horses and civilians as well. Nothing was safe. The streets and buildings were red. The smell of blood was thick in the air. Anything still alive and breathing had likely fled by now.

Kouwashi had gone berserk. Only this time, Ezio was on his own and bleeding badly.

He needed to be stopped, though.

"Maestro!"

Perhaps luck was on his side, for he felt a pair of hands grab him before his face met with the road — not that he'd been aware of that until now. Shaking his head of the dizziness plaguing him, he looked up to see Antonio, one of the older of the Assassin recruits. Ezio managed a weak grin, attempting to straighten up only to fail miserably.

"M-Maestro, you are hurt," Antonio said quickly, practically forcing Ezio to lean on him more. Not that there was much of a choice. "Please, tell me what happened! Why is Kouwashi like that? How did—" Antonio sucked in a breath, and Ezio knew he must have glimpsed the scene around Kouwashi again. "Tanto sangue... " (2)

"We... need to stop him... " Was that his voice? Ezio wanted to cringe, suddenly aware of just how much blood he was losing. His body felt so heavy and weak. "He'll hurt himself... !"

"M-Maestro, forgive me, but Kouwashi seems perfectly fine from—"

"No!" Ezio snapped fiercely, and Antonio actually cringed. He didn't know how he knew, or why, but he just did. The way Kouwashi was right now, with the wings, how he seemed to be drawing upon an endless supply of power, he just had this... this feeling that Kouwashi would end up in a far more serious situation than he was.

"Ready your weapons!"

The Assassins looked up quickly, ducking further into the shadows to watch as a circle of Borgia riflemen gathered around Kouwashi, seeming to trap him. The blue-clad demon – for 'Assassin' was hardly a fitting term in his present state – seemed to care little for it, only watching with feral look in his eyes. The wings, however, stiffened and drew closer, and Ezio cursed as he knew what was about to happen.

He didn't shout, didn't yell, didn't even warn his pupil. He simply grabbed Antonio and pulled him to the ground, laying him down flat. Ezio couldn't even answer his question before, like earlier, time slowed down and the blades of the wings shot out, slowly, managing to impale a vast majority of the riflemen surrounding their user.

When time returned, however, it was the collapsing of the building beside them that had him cautious to get up (though he had a tough time doing so anyway). With Antonio's help, Ezio was back on his feet, grunting in discomfort but urging his pupil to help survey the damage, especially when he saw a few lucky souls managing to escape from the scene.

Viewing it from the shelter of the alley was nothing. Everything in that square was a single coat of red, and bodies were everywhere. Innocent and Borgia, Ezio noticed grimly.

And Kouwashi was nowhere in sight.

After that, Ezio wasn't aware of what happened next. He assumed it was his lost blood catching up to him. Everything was a blur for the next few weeks, topped off with a mixture of pain and disorientation. He couldn't tell up from down, left from right. Sometimes he wondered if he was dead, or if he was even still among allies, because he often felt awful. One of the few moments he could recall was being awake long enough to endure a fierce hug from Claudia, and having a short lecture by his mother about taking better care of himself.

During most of the time, he dreamt. He dreamt of nothing and everything. For whatever reason, he kept seeing Kouwashi. Kouwashi and his homeland, his training. If he had to guess, he'd say he was seeing the young Assassin's memories, but he wasn't even sure of that even. Yet the land he saw, he couldn't deny its beauty. He had to step back and wonder why Kouwashi had left to begin with. There was also, very obviously, a girl waiting for the foreigner back in his homeland. A beautiful girl, at that. Looking right at her made Ezio question if she was lover or sibling, but he never had that much of a glimpse at her.

Sometimes he dreamt of his own memories, seeing his father and brothers, and the times he had before their deaths. Other times, he'd remember the Apple of Eden and its relation to the Wings on Kouwashi's back.

Most disturbing of all was seeing the young boy — not Assassin — curled up in the middle of the darkest, fog-ridden place Ezio had ever seen, in dream or otherwise. This was, perhaps, the most mysterious of all, for when he tried to approach, he was immediately met with a set of walls building around him until a full maze was built that he couldn't even begin navigate, no matter how hard he tried.

Finally, when he could be coherent for a normal amount of time, he could see Leonardo, sitting by his side reading a book, and looking as haggard as ever. Ezio grimaced, both from attempting move and from his friend's look. The action didn't go unnoticed. Leonardo was on him in an instant, beaming ear-to-ear and dropping his book in the process.

"Ezio! You're awake!" he exclaimed excitedly. The Assassin grunted when the artist hugged him a little too tightly, though he waved away the apologies. Leonardo helped him to sit up, stacking pillows behind him.

"How long have I been gone?" Ezio asked.

"Just... Just a little over a week. But you must understand, amico mio, you were very injured!"

That still didn't help the cold hand clenching his gut. A week. He'd been gone a week. A week in which the Borgia could have risen more in power, gained more supplies and men to aid in their army.

"And what of Kouwashi?"

"He's... " Leonardo closed his mouth, turning away. He even took off his hat in favour of running a hand through his hair. Finally, he turned his eyes back to Ezio. "I am sorry... no one has been able to find him... and the Borgia want him killed on sight."

He was surprised by how little effort it took to get his body up and moving at those words, despite Leonardo's protests and attempts to stop him. Ezio only shrugged him off, proclaiming where he was going. The artist would have none of it, however, and the two had started arguing even — arguing, the two best friends who had known each other for years! It was only after a sharp, and perhaps unnecessary and unintentional, jab to his side that Ezio was slowed down a little, forced to lean against whoever it was who had caught him.

Machiavelli.

"Are you that eager to die?" the nobleman asked, a scowl in his features. "It would take very little for one of the Borgia drunks to take you out as you are."

"I can't afford to stay down any longer," Ezio practically growled, in no mood to put up with Machiavelli"s tongue. "And I have to fix this mess."

"What mess? As far as the Borgia know, you are dead. They are spending every one of their able-bodied men on finding that mostro of a shadow you had. We are much lower on their list of priorities now than we were."

"They won't be able to kill him!"

"Or find him, for that matter." The voice startled the two, rounding on Leonardo who seemed to have realized something. Ezio must have shown his confusion, because the artist cleared his throat and stepped forward. He gestured to something behind the Assassin. "May I?" Ezio nodded, and stood perfectly still as Leonardo seemed to pick something off of him — his hair, more precisely. He instinctively spun around to face the artist when his hair was let loose from its ribbon, prepared to demand just what was going on.

Leonardo, however, simply took the ribbon he now had and placed it on the bed. By now, the artist was smiling, as if he'd understood something that no one else was seeing. And then the ribbon glowed, briefly and so quickly that it would have been missed had no one been staring right at it, but it glowed. A familiar golden glow that didn't need the second appearance to indicate what it was.

"Fascinating," Leonardo said simply.

"What?" Ezio asked, picking up the ribbon cautiously. "How did... what am I missing here?"

"My guess is that our little eagle plans on coming back," Machiavelli pitched in. He sighed, simply dusting off his clothes and readjusting his gloves, even as Ezio looked between the two men, bewildered.

* * *

><p><strong>AN** - OHMY. AM I LATE? Yes, yes I am. Apologies. Finals are coming up. Only one translation for today.

(1) "Japanese is confusing."

(2) - "So much blood... " (Roughly)


End file.
